This Is How We Do It
by Cantique
Summary: Collection of oneshots and whatever comes to my brain. Lots of Fem!Boss/Gat. #sorrynotsorry M for maybe some eventual sex stuff. I don't know. I don't even think I'm wearing pants right now.
1. Justice League

"You scared the shit out of us, Johnny."

The Boss finally spoke up, looking up from her beer across the small table at her long-lost left hand. Everyone else had long gone to bed, Shaundi being the last, and the two of them had sat in silence since, nursing beers together.

He gave a shrug, swigging back some of his beer and wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Eh," he said dismissively, "_you_ of all people should have known it'd take more than some Frenchie to keep me down."

"It was a _plane,_ Johnny. We thought you died in a _plane crash._"

"My point still stands." He gave a smirk, raising his bottle to her and tilting it a little in a gesture.

The Boss laughed, crossing her arms and kicking her feet up on a crate. "Nice to see you're still smug as fuck," she paused. "I missed it a little," she admitted.

"'Course you did. I'm the only person who's cockier than you. I make you _cool,_ Boss."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," rolling her eyes, she set her beer down on the table, her eyes watching the label. That wasn't why she missed it at all. She'd missed _him._ "Hell, even all this new blood couldn't make up for it, you know?"

"Yeah," he leaned forward, resting his beer on the table with yours. "Been meaning to talk to you about that. The fuck is with all this new blood, anyway? It's like the fucking Justice League or some bullshit in here."

"They're good at what they do, Johnny. Gotta keep up when your shit gets this big, what, with all this Facebooky, Twittery technology shit or whatever."

"And Keith David?"

"It's Keith fucking David," she scoffed and stared him down. "I don't have to justify that and you fucking know it."

"They even been canonized?" He asked, looking down over his shades at her. The Boss shifted a bit. Johnny wasn't going to like this.

"We don't do that anymore."

Johnny gave a groan and let his head sag backwards. "Are you fucking _serious?_ I leave for a bit and you just throw everything The Saints was out the window?"

The Boss opened her mouth to speak, wanting to tell him that everything The Saints was had died for her along with Johnny. That he _was_ The Saints to her. She stopped herself, however, taking a breath and trying again. "We couldn't be picky when we picked these guys up. After we got off that plane? We had nothing, Johnny. Nothing. No money, no strongholds, nothing. We had to build ourselves back up from the fucking ground and I think I did a pretty good _fucking _job with what I had!" The Boss stopped when she realised she was raising her voice, talking like she was about to punch someone.

There was a very, very long period of silence following the little outburst, the only other sounds being that of Johnny opening another beer. For a moment, The Boss considered apologising. She decided against it, though. Her emotions had been all over the place today, but she was fucked if she was going to let anyone catch on willingly. She wouldn't have gotten where she was if people thought she was vulnerable, or anything _but_ a complete sociopath. She couldn't afford to have a soft spot.

"You did good." Johnny finally broke the silence, his voice bringing The Boss back to reality, shocking her a little. "Real good. Wouldn't have expected fuck else from you."

The Boss eyed him, before reaching down and grabbing at another beer, knocking the cap off with a hiss against the lip of the table. "Why'd you do it?" She asked, before knocking back a mouthful. "Why'd you stay back?"

She took another swig of her beer, not taking her eyes off him, making out his eyes through the lenses of his shades. He didn't move them from her once.

"When I lost Aisha," he began, cracking his neck from side to side, "there was a lot of shit going through my head, you know? I mean, fuck, you saw it. You dealt with my sorry ass after all that." He gave a long exhale.

"Johnny," The Boss cut in. "You don't have to answer that." She shook her head. "I know you hate this feely shit. I thought you'd just tell me you wanted a bigger kill cou-"

"No," he interrupted. "I wanna tell you this. While we got some time, without all these other…" he reached out and waved his hand around. "You know. Those guys." He shifted a bit in his seat and continued. "Anyway, I couldn't help but feel I fucked up, you know? Like it was my fault. It was my fuckin' job to protect her, 'cos you know, that's what you do when you love a woman. You protect 'em."

The Boss suddenly reached forward for her beer. Great. This was a Shaundi thing. She fucking called this _years_ ago. She threw her head back, getting as much of her drink in as she could while he continued.

"So we're on that plane, and I'm not a fucking idiot, Boss, I can see it's all about to go to shit. And you and Shaundi are there, and the only thing I got going through my mind the whole time is how I don't want to fuck up like that again. I don't want this to be Aisha again. So all I cared about was making sure _you _got out. Guess I should really thank Shaundi for dropping her clumsy ass out of a plane some time, don't know what would have gone down if you'd come back for me."

Instinctively, The Boss lurched forward, her arm over her mouth as she fought to not spit her mouth full of beer all over the table. "Holy _shit_ Johnny!" She wiped her mouth and took a breath. "Are you being fuckin' serious right now?"

"Yeah, well, it was a long time ago." He gave a shrug. "I'm sure you're fucking Keith David now or some shit. I'll get over it."

"Fuck no!" she exclaimed. "Fuck, Johnny, I just… what the fuck? Since when?"

He shrugged. "I don't fucking know, do I look like someone who keeps a fucking diary? We've been running together a long time, Boss."

"Yeah," The Boss agreed, regaining a little bit of composure and sitting back up straight. "Yeah, we fucking have."

"You aren't freaking out."

"You thought I'd freak out? The fuck, Johnny? After I thought you'd died I'd tried getting over it with sex, violence, revenge…" she shrugged, "...sometimes a weird combination of the three… but none of that made me feel the way I did when you were around. It wasn't rolling with you I missed, it was _you_." She paused, before reaching back out for her beer, avoiding eye contact. "Well, this is fucking awkward."

She took another drink, Johnny following suit before yet another long period of silence passed, the two of them silently mulling over what'd been exchanged.

"So we're cool?" Johnny finally asked.

"Yeah," The Boss nodded, her voice quiet. "Yeah, we're cool. This is… this is cool."

Johnny took a final swig of his beer before slamming it down on the table. "Good," he laughed. "Because with the way your ass pops when you're shooting was driving me fucking crazy and I didn't want to be the first man to rub one out in space."

The Boss laughed, throwing her head back and leaving it hanging there. "Pretty sure Matt stole that honor from you a _long_ time ago."

"What about fucking in space?"

Suddenly, The Boss's head snapped up, her face changing into a grin.

"You are _so_ on."


	2. Home Base

Johnny wasn't really sure what to expect anymore. Go to her place, make sure she was up to speed with everything, that was the plan. Ever since this Ultor thing happened, she'd been… different. Not around as much - and while he didn't want to admit it, he was a little bit worried about her.

The suburb was nice, like the one he and Aisha used to live in, and that's what had thrown him off at first. She hadn't said shit about moving, and she didn't exactly _look_ like a suburbs girl in the time he'd been rolling with her - spare when she first showed up, but he figured that'd been kicked out of her when she was canonized.

Driving slowly down the clean street, his eyes thinned. All the buildings were white or tanned or some light-ass shade of paint, all of them fenced off, some with hedges, others with security cameras. This wasn't like her at all, unless she'd been lying to him. Had she been? She never talked about where she was from, now that he thought about it. Fuck, he'd never even _been_ to her place before, unless you counted the few safe houses or the hideout.

And then, as he pulled up at the dilapidated house squeezed neatly between the two luxury homes, a few purple-donned figures sitting on the front porch in a cloud of smoke eyeing him, he felt a little better about the situation. This was _definitely_ her.

Getting out of his car, one of the figures nodded and raised a beer to him, nodding to another, who ran inside to find her. "She home?" He called to the figure as he arrived on the porch.

"Yeah, give her a second."

"What, she too fuckin' busy for me, now?" He snorted, almost insulted, the figure seeming to shrink a little.

"Gimme a fuckin' second, Johnny!" Her voice called from inside, several footsteps following before she threw open the slightly-torn and therefore useless security door.

"You look like shit," he observed, crossing his arms.

"Fuck you."

He wasn't exactly _lying._ She did look like shit. Her hair was a mess in one big matted rat nest in the back, meaning she'd either been fucking someone or she hadn't brushed her hair in weeks. Her hoodie, which probably wasn't hers judging by how baggy it was, hung off her shoulder without a strap to be seen, and she was fucking around with her belt to try and get it fastened. Yep. She'd been fucking someone.

"Where the fuck've you been?" he asked her.

"Here." She was blunt with him, gesturing for him to follow her inside as she opened the door for him. As he stepped through, the frame of the security door broke away from the actual house with a loud crack. "Oh for fuck's…" she gave a grumble and kicked the frame with her foot, giving up when it didn't force it back into place and following him into the hall.

"You fuckin live here or something?" He asked. "Fuck, Mira-"

"_Don't_ fucking call me that." She snapped, pointing at him as she passed him in the hall.

"...Homie," he quickly corrected himself and took his turn to follow her. "This place is a shithole." He looked down, the at least 40-year-old carpet looked as though it'd never been washed and had worn out spots all over it. The walls looked like they were probably white or something once, but had since gone a tarnished yellow, peppered with scratches, marks and the occasional hole in the plaster. The ceiling was a sight to behold in itself, covered with various smoke stains and god knows what along with countless cobwebs. The entire place smelled like a mix of dust, old cigarette smoke and spilled beer with just a hint of her to it, which was probably her perfume or something - not that he'd ever admit to associating it with her. Seemed… weird to do that.

"Yeah, well, I've lived here since before day one." She pointed to a spot on the wall which had dark red, almost brown fingerprints on it. Dried up blood. "From when I was canonized."

"You ever thought of cleaning the place?" he asked.

"Shit no." She opened a door and the perfume smell was even stronger. Her room. She stepped in, tilting her head to someone inside. "Make yourself scarce. Got business to attend to." Within a few moments, a tall, tanned recruit pulling his shirt on over the top of his head passed by them, not even shooting Johnny so much as a glance.

"Who the fuck was he?!" Johnny asked as she made her way inside.

"Paul," she shrugged as he followed, closing the bedroom down behind him. "No, wait" she sat on her bed and reached for a small tin, opening it after a small moment of struggling to get a good enough grip on the body of the tin. "Pete? Peter? Eh," she took a joint from the tin and placed it behind her ear, snapping the tin shut with one hand. "Whatever."

"Okay, seriously," he looked around, finding a chair and carelessly clearing the clothes sitting on it onto the floor. It wouldn't matter, the place was messy enough. "What the fuck is with you?" She said nothing, choosing to just raise an eyebrow curiously as she lit the joint in her mouth as he continued. "Since when did you disappear for days at a time to get high and fuck randoms? What the fuck are you now, Shaundi?"

"When did what I do in my spare time become any of your fucking business?" She asked.

"When it walked past me in your goddamn doorway. The fuck is going on?"

She didn't respond right away, giving herself a minute to exhale the heavy smoke first. "Lots of changes happening, Johnny. I need me time."

"This isn't 'me time' for you and you fucking know it. You know what 'me time' is for you? Spray painting giant dicks on the side of shopping malls. Shooting tyres out on ice-cream trucks from a distance. Hiring hookers to play Uno with you - not fucking the first recruit with a six pack you can fucking find."

"Will you stop bringing that up?" She asked, her voice raising a little for the first time. "The fuck are you, jealous? You want my dick, too?"

He opened his mouth to respond, but just shook his head in frustration instead. "You know what?" He stood up. "You call me when you feel like being the boss of the Saints instead of acting like a regular deadshit recruit. This isn't you and I'm not fucking dealing with it today, _Mirabelle._" There was venom in his voice as he said her name, which he knew she _hated_, and he almost felt a little bit bad about it, but he wasn't about to apologise given this special brand of bullshit.

He walked to her door without another word, but when he turned the knob on the door, he heard something. A deep breath. Not of her taking a drag. Not a sigh or something like it. Like she was building up to something.

"I'm fuckin' scared, Johnny."

He felt his shoulders drop a bit as he exhaled. "There it is," he said quietly, in almost a whisper. "There it fucking is." He took his hand from the knob and turned to look back at her. She sat on her bed, staring at her feet, her cockiness from before completely gone as the joint idly burned away between her fingers. "Scared of what?" he asked, making his way across the room to take the seat back. "Don't tell me you're pussying out now."

"We just… keep losing people."

"We're always going to lose people, kid, you knew that when you got your flags."

"I know… but…" she shook her head. "It's fuckin' stupid. Don't worry about it."

"No," Johnny's voice was firm. "We're fuckin' talking about this because I am _fucked_ if I'm going to deal with two Shaundi's any time soon."

She gave a short smile, putting out her joint on the top of the tin. "It's just… so much at once, you know? People I thought would be okay because they could handle their shit. Gone. It's all just kinda… caught up with me, you know? Now shit's quiet."

"We've all lost people lately, they won't be the last."

She quickly shook her head and reached out for a hair-tie on her bedside table, finally pulling her rat's nest back into a bun, which was only really a _slight_ improvement. "Sorry. I'm here bitching about my fuckin feelings when Aisha…"

"I'm not the one taking dick to try and deal." He watched her for a moment as she scratched her neck. "This is about Carlos, isn't it?"

"A little," her voice was soft, croaking a bit from the smoke. "I miss him."

"You've never lost someone close before, have you?"

She shook her head. "Not that I didn't already want dead."

He chuckled a little at that, even this couldn't get that last bit of spirit out of her. "Well, you'll deal. It's hard as _fuck_. But you'll deal. Helps we're all in the same place right now."

"Even though we're not all taking dick, right?" She asked, a little smile on her face.

"Damned fucking straight." He shot her a smile. "You've always had my back, kid, I've got yours."

Suddenly, she threw her head back, rolling her eyes a little. "Will you fuckin' stop calling me kid already?"

Johnny watched her for a moment in silence, his eyes glancing over one of the many scars she'd picked up, this one on her bare shoulder. She was right. She wasn't a kid anymore. She'd become something else since she'd shown up at that church, doe-eyed and antsy before she took a smack to the nose- which may or may not have been Johnny's handiwork.

Now she sat on her bed, Boss of the Saints, covered in her own battlescars including the little scar on her jawline from when Johnny - accidentally - cut her with a box-cutter that one time. When they'd started rolling together his biggest concern was that she couldn't handle himself and he'd have to keep carrying her. But he didn't. At least if he ever by some scary chance got knocked-off, he'd know she'd be able to handle herself _and_ the rest of The Saints. He'd done a good job.

"Alright," he exhaled. "I'll stop calling you kid when you go take a goddamn shower."

She was quiet for a moment, a soft smile on her face. "...Thanks."

They shared the silence for a few more moments, content in each other's company until Johnny cracked a grin. "No, seriously, go take a fuckin' shower. I can smell your ass from over here."

"Fuck you."

"You wish you could."


	3. Bad Hair Day

"So, we gonna talk about your hair or what?"

The Boss stopped herself as she passed by the lockers he'd chosen to perch himself on, frowning. "The fuck did you just say?"

"Your hair," he smirked. "What's the fuckin' deal?"

"Fuck you, I look fuckin' fabulous."

"What, is that was Pierce said? Just because Pierce is-"

"What the fuck's wrong with my hair?" She cut in, totally forgetting about whatever it was she'd initially planned to go and do, deciding this was a far more pressing matter.

He shrugged. "Mmm, nothing's _wrong _with it."

"But you don't like it? Is that it?"

"Just not used to you with the… you know."

"The _what?_" She asked, very, _very_ bluntly.

"Well, it's longer."

"No fuckin' shit_._ Hair grows, dumbass."

"Yeah, but I mean," he braced the edge of the locker before springing himself down, landing in front of her, "thought you would have cut it, you know, long hair being girly shit and all."

"Well maybe I thought it looks _nice._ You ever fuckin' thought of that? And anyway," The Boss gave a little smirk, "you don't exactly get to talk shit about anyone's hair."

"The fuck?" He asked. "Fuck's wrong with _my_ hair?"

"Oh, nothing _now,_ but I remember that stupid cartoon-looking shit you had going."

"Hey! Fuck you. Chicks dug that back then."

"What were they, blind?"

"And anyway," he said, completely ignoring her last quip, "I never said it looked bad." He gave a smirk and crossed his arms, leaning back against the very locker he'd jumped down from. "I like it."

The Boss's demeanor completely changed, a smile spreading across her face before she closed in on him, her fingers moving to play with the collar of his jumpsuit. "That right?" She asked, her voice lowering a little.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice matching hers in volume as he tucked a little behind her ear, his fingers continuing to trail on down the side of her neck. "Gives me something to pull."

"I always knew you had good taste." She smiled up at him before moving in, planting kisses along his jaw, slowly making her way down his neck. He gave a content sigh, visibly relaxing a bit against the locker, not at all hating the way this was going - that much was obvious to her.

"Not sure about the color, though." She stopped immediately at this, knowing full well without even having to look that he had his trademark, self-satisfied smirk. "This whole ginger thing… why would you _dye_ it that color?"

The Boss raised an eyebrow. "It's my natural color, you asshole."

For a moment, Johnny stared at her in silence and The Boss _almost_ could have been fooled into thinking he was ashamed of what he'd said. Instead, however, she felt his chest begin to shake with laughter, and soon he threw his head back, roaring with laughter. "You're a _ginger?!_" He cackled. "Holy _shit!_"

"What the fuck is so fucking funny about that?!" She asked, trying to pull away. All she got was laughter. Uproarious laughter.

He still held her close the whole time.


	4. Give it, Take it

"The fuck are you staring at?"

She sat in a pew, nursing a broken nose, giving him a fierce side-eye. She didn't like him, and he couldn't really blame her given he was the one who broke that nose in the first place.

"You punched me first, kid. What'd you expect?" He asked her, leaning against the end of one of the pews.

"It was an accident." She spoke bluntly, her voice a little muffled through the frozen peas covered in paper towels from the bathroom. It was true. It had been. But she'd still hit him, and if she was so clumsy that she didn't know where her own fist was going, that was her own fucking fault.

"You don't get to make accidents. Accidents are dangerous, kid. They get people shot."

She didn't respond, instead turning her vision back downwards, her body hunched over her knees as some more blood dripped from the already soaked paper towel onto the floor. Johnny would have felt a little sorry for her if she wasn't being such a bitch. She was a decent size for a chick, big enough to take on most of the recruits but small enough to fit in small spaces and, admittedly, not be too hard to look at. Honestly, when she'd walked in with her shitty valley-girl tan and bleached hair, Johnny thought he'd brought in one of Tanya's girls. He was impressed with how she held herself right up until she threw a messy punch and clocked him in the jaw during her canonization.

After a few moments, he gave an exacerbated exhale and approached her, taking a seat next to her and pulling her hand away from her face. If Aisha found out he broke a chick's nose and didn't even try to make sure she was alright, he'd be in trouble. Again. "Come on," he sighed, lifting her head up by the chin until she was facing upwards. "Let's look at the damage."

She tried to shrug him off, but he kept a firm grip on her chin, giving a whistle when he pulled the frozen peas away. "Fuuuck, I'm good," he laughed, setting them down on the pew and turning her face from left to right in the light, admiring his handiwork. Her face from the bridge of her nose down was bloody, her nose itself sitting on a weird angle that it definitely wasn't before. "Hold on to something, kid," he warned. "This is going to hurt. Like a fucking lot."

"The fuck are you-" she stopped when he grabbed her nose and forcefully snapped it back to the right where it sat before, a great crunching noise ringing through the old church, turning a few heads. "FUCK!" She cried out, pulling away as he let go and covering her face in her hands, doubling over and groaning in agony. Johnny couldn't help but laugh, wiping the blood his hand had picked up against her back, the physical contact making her recoil.

"Maybe next time you'll think twice before swinging at me," he joked. "What's your name, kid?"

"Fuck you!" She spat from beneath her hands. Johnny just smirked, eyeing the wallet sitting in her back pocket.

"The fuck kind of name is that? Belgian?" He grinned and reached out, grabbing the wallet and snatching it from her jeans. "Let's take a look…"

"What the fuck, man?!" She cried, reaching out to take it back. Johnny merely turned his back to her, flicking through it to find an ID or something, settling for a driver's license.

"You can drive stick, not bad… hold the fuck on," Johnny turned back to look at her, holding in a snort. "This seriously your fuckin' name?"

"Give me back my ID," she warned. Johnny burst into laughter, her refusal to comment being enough for him.

"Mirabelle?!" he laughed. "Fuckin seriously? You a fuckin' cow or something?!"

The next thing Johnny knew, she'd taken a knife from god-knows-where and had it pointed at his chest. He managed to stifle his laughter, but his smirk remained, not at all threatened by the little white girl threatening him. "Give me my _fucking_ ID," she ordered.

"Alright, alright," he shrugged and put the ID back into the wallet for her, handing it over with a shrug. "Chill out, kid, I won't tell anyone…" he raised an eyebrow when he spotted a folded-up strip of condom foils, flickering his eyes to her and then back. "Got enough rubbers in here?"

"Gimme' that," she said, taking the knife away and snatching the wallet back. "You done yet? Don't you have someone else to fuck with?"

"Nope." He shook his head and leaned back in the pew, crossing his arms. "I just fixed your nose, kid, you should probably fuckin' thank me… you can start by telling me where the fuck you learned to fight that that."

"...I just knew."

"Come the fuck on, kid," he groaned. "I fucked your nose up. Build a bridge and get the fuck over it. We all went through that, you're one of us now and you're fuckin' lucky a broken nose is the worst you got."

She watched him for a moment, eyeing him hesitantly before speaking. "I really don't know. Been getting in fights since I was a kid."

"Guess they didn't like that in the burbs, huh?"

"I'm not a fucking suburbs kid." She shifted in her seat a bit. "I'm not giving you a fuckin' sob story though if that's what you want. I survived this long and I'm here. That's it."

It was Johnny's turn to eye her now. She wasn't a suburbs kid, but had the fancy-ass hair and clothes? Another smirk spread across his mouth, the light bulb going off over his head. "You're a fuckin' hooker, aren't you?"

"The fuck?" She made a face of disgust, but he could see right through it. Johnny knew her game. He had her figured out now.

"All the rubbers, the way you fight, the fact you looked like you stepped out of a fuckin' salon when you showed up before, the knife? Either you're a hooker or you're really fuckin' pissed at your daddy."

She was silent for a moment, hunching back over her knees and mulling over his deduction. Johnny knew her game was up, and she was probably trying to figure out if she could still try and deny it.

"Not anymore," she finally said, her voice low. "I'm out of that game now. I don't need it anymore."

"Hated it that much, huh?" he asked.

She shook her head. "Boring. It was good cash, but there wasn't purpose unless you went and worked for Tanya, which…" she laughed. "Fuck that bitch, seriously. It was just fucking boring."

He raised his eyebrow at her. "You were _bored?_ Are you for real?" Johnny laughed this time, just a little, watching her as he did so and spreading his arms back to rest on the back of the pews. "You're fuckin' crazy, kid."

"Don't call me that."

He rolled his head from left to right, smiling to himself. He liked her. He wasn't sure why, maybe it was because she _was_ fucking crazy. But he liked her. "I'll call you whatever the fuck I want to, kid." He stood up from the pew, rolling his shoulders now. "I like you. You're rolling with me now."

"Seriously?" She asked.

"Yeah. I wanna see if you're crazy enough to keep the fuck up with me. You're probably like a hungry racoon or some shit."

"I will fucking _cut_ you."

"That's my girl."


	5. It's My First Day

_Holy mother of god, thanks for much for the reviews! I'm going to try this smut thing now. So uh. Heads up for dickings. I've never really been good at writing sexy business without sending myself into giggles so I hope this is okay._

* * *

"These fucking… fuck!" The Boss swerved the car sharply, managing to cruise through the vehicle in front of her while narrowly avoiding one in the on-coming lane. Johnny couldn't help but smile a little as he watched her drive. Fuck she'd come a long way.

"Hey, Boss," he began, watching as she stuck her hand out of the window to flip off another driver. "Remember when you first started with The Saints, before all this time-travel bullshit? How you used to drive?"

"Sure do." Another swerve as a truck gave a long honk of it's horn. "I also remember you kicking the shit out of me for smashing up your car."

"You fuckin' deserved it."

"It was my first day!" She argued, mounting the curb to sharply turn a corner.

Johnny scoffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, that was your fucking excuse for everything."

"Bullshit."

"It fucking was! Like okay, there was when you fucked up my car, and then when you accidentally turned your safety off and shot Shaundi in the leg, and then when you blew up that gas station, and when that Samedi motherfucker got a gun against your head because you got distracted by a puppy…"

"And now I'm the _Boss, _thank you very much."

"Yeah, 'thank you' is fucking right. I made you." He teased, a smile in the corner of his mouth.

"I was also the goddamn President," she added, turning another corner behind a building. "You weren't even around to claim _that_ one."

"You're right." He gave a nod. "If I had been, _I_ would have been the President."

She pulled the car to the stop in a back alleyway, shaking her head, and Johnny looked around. "Where the fuck are we?" He asked as the boss undid her seatbelt. "Thought we were going to Friendly Fire."

"We are." She answered, climbing up onto her seat and over the console. "But I remembered how badly you fucked up that Samadi guy you were talking about and I never got to thank you for it." She pulled herself onto his seat, straddling his lap and placing her palms on his chest. "I mean, if you _really_ want to go to Friendly Fire…"

"Fuck no," he laughed, taking her hips in his hands and pulling her against him, eliciting a gasp from her before she moved in to kiss him. Her hands moved up to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck, her nails grazing his skin a little. He exhaled and nibbled at her lip, pulling her hips down again to feel how hard he already was - he entirely blamed the tightness of the pants she was wearing today for that.

Letting her forehead press against his, she broke away from the kiss and looked into his shades, biting her lip letting her hands wander back down. Over his chest, then his torso, settling for a minute on the top of his belt. Giving a deep exhale, he pulled her back into him again, his grip on her hips moving up to her waist, sliding his hands under her tank top and scaling her back until they reached the clasp of her bra. "Fuck, I wish you didn't wear these," he whispered as he fidgeted with it, trying to release this. "What the fuck is this? Some kind of Zinyak-hacking-bullshit bra or something?"

The Boss smiled and leaned back, rolling her eyes as she reached up under her shirt and found the clasp, brushing away his fingers. She smirked and with a single movement was able to effortlessly unhook it with one hand. "You're getting rusty, Gat."

He groaned into her neck as his hands moved to her front now, cupping the prizes as if they were on autopilot. "Next time I'm cutting it off."

"Bullfucking_shit_ you will!" She suddenly warned. "You think this lingerie shit is chea- _aaahh_!" She gasped, losing any semblance of thought as he bit into her neck a little. She whimpered a little, her body grinding against him again as she tugged at his own shirt. He broke away just long enough to pull her tank top and her bra over her head in one movement, carelessly discarding them into the driver's seat. Wanting to feel her skin against his, she quickly moved to help him shrug out of his jacket, tossing that and eventually his own shirt aside in the general direction of hers.

They continued the kissing, their skin seeming to get impossibly hot against each other as the grinding intensified, one of his hands drifting back downwards to her ass, squeezing it firmly with a groan while she moved her fingers impossibly fast to unbuckle his belt. "I… I… backseat," she mumbled between kisses.

"What?"

"There's no room to take these off here," she gasped, pulling away and clumsily climbing between the two front seats to the back and tugging at the top of her pants a little as a hint. Johnny instinctively followed, The Boss removing his shades and placing them -with more care than anything else - on the center console as he piled in on top of her and started to tug at her pants. Seeming to be unable to catch her breath, she wiggled them down and past her hips, kicking them off with her feet once they were down to her knees while he took her free hand and led it down to his length. She squeezed, biting her lip from the thrill his groans gave her. "Just fuck me already," she whispered, her voice raspy, her legs braced around him. "Please?" She begged as she tugged at his pants.

"Ain't got time for that," he pulled himself from his underwear and pulled hers aside, positioning himself at her entrance. "Just thought about that time you gave that recruit a lapdance before you canonized him into a coma. Can't wait."

She gave a short gasp as he entered her, The Boss pulling her leg back to allow him to find his way further as they gasped and panted through their kisses. "Mmmph fuck," she moaned as he filled her, moving in the slow rhythm that this always started with, cautious, savoring the feeling before searching for different ones. He built his pace slowly, but patiently, working his way up to the roughness she loved, pulling her hair back and exposing her neck to his mouth. Without warning, she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him down, their positions swapping. She knew he liked it like this and the bouncing motion she'd inevitably find herself in.

"God, you're so…" The Boss trailed off, her eyes fixed ahead.

"So...?"

"Fuck." The look of pleasure from her face was gone and she reached out into the driver's seat. "We got company."

Still inside her, he sat up, intending to turn and look out the window she was, but instead catching a glimpse of roughly six or so Morningstar recruits charging at the car, a small amount, but enough to be an issue. "The fuck?"

"Morningstar. I seriously thought we'd killed all these fuckers," she explained as she loaded her weapon. She moved to pull away from him, but he stopped her, pulling her hips back down.

"Fucked if I'm letting them ruin an excellent afternoon." Johnny smirked and watched as she sussed this out, eventually, though, she grinned and tossed him another pistol.

"This is _so_ happening, you- _unff!" _She moaned as he gave a thrust into her, aiming over her shoulder and through the opposite window to fire at the assailants.

One fell to the ground with a shot to the chest, another taking a shot to the head in an explosive mess, but Johnny didn't have time to concentrate on his victory as she lifted her hips up and downwards, firing her own pistol through the other window. "You're making it real… _fuckin hard_ for me to concentrate…"

"If I… if I…" she let out a moan between shots, gripping to him with her free arm for dear life. "If I didn't… where'd the fun be… aah… in that_ohjesusdon'tstop!_"

He gave a grunt as he shot through another's kneecap and loaded a clip into the 4th's torso. "You like that, don't you?" She gave an affirmative whimper and he fired another two shots - one going through what he assumed was a kidney and the other, which he'd intended to be a head-shot until she'd squeezed her legs around him, taking out a jugular. "You still got any?"

"Yeah," she responded, still breathless. "I just-"

She didn't get to finish before he grabbed her by her waist and flipped her down, facing the upholstery of her once-spotless prized possession, holding herself up on the arm-rest of the door with her gun-hand barely poking out the window. Two were left outside, and she was barely able to communicate beyond moans and short, ragged pleas of encouragement. Johnny drove himself into her, doing his best to aim and take the headshot he intended to he could return his full attention to her.

"Oh fuu_uuck_, I'msofuckingclose…" she cried beneath him, causing him to stop worrying about the final figure approaching the car long enough to run his hand up her back and thrust against her with force, _needing_ to see her get there.

"Come on," he groaned, reaching out for her hair and pulling at it, forcing her to face out the window. "Come for me, come on!" Her cries became louder and louder, and as he closed his eyes and waited to hear her, he heard a gunshot instead, opening them to find she'd taking a clear shot at the last man standing. Dropping her pistol out the window her cries erupted, her body shaking beneath him as she released, the stream of otherwise incoherent cursing coming from her mouth being enough to send him over the edge soon after.

Exhausted, he collapsed on top of her, the two of them sweaty and glowing with adrenaline. "Holy shit," she panted, running a hand through her hair. "That was…"

"I always told you," he laughed between pants, "nothing works for me like seeing you with a gun."

"We're so fucked up," she said, reaching for his shades and handing them back to him, her hands shaking.

"Would you have it any other way?" he asked.

"Hell no."


	6. Dumb Ideas

"This is the dumbest idea you've ever had," Shaundi grumbled, securing a cable. "Seriously, Boss, we've done some really dumb shit, but this? You've outdone yourself."

"No," The Boss locked together a hook-lock and shook her head. "It's brilliant. Pure brilliance. I am _brilliant_."

"This is dumber than the time that we freed the panther at the zoo because you decided he looked lonely," Kinzie agreed, typing away on a laptop, furiously working out the logistics of the plan. "And the time you tried to clone yourself so you'd have 'ready-to-harvest' organs."

"Or that time you recorded that album, don't forget that!" Pierce added as he slammed an ammo clip into his semi-automatic.

"Hey! Fuck you!" The Boss snapped, pointing from behind the chain, frowning. "My album was fucking great!"

"It was an entire album of Barry Manilow covers," he argued. "The Rolling Stone called it 'the most ugly attempt at music since the dawn of time.'"

"Oh, remember when you tried to buy a dinosaur?" Shaundi asked. "You know, not even a dinosaur clone or a fossil. No. You tried to buy a fucking dinosaur."

"When you tried to convert the entirety of Ally McBeal into a stage play."

"Tried to have a doctor install a second heart in you so you'd have more energy."

"Tried to criminalize jellyfish."

"Pushed to deport people who walk slowly in shopping malls to Puerto Rico."

"Hit me during your canonization," Johnny's voice piped up as he joined in. The Boss rolled her eyes and cleared her throat.

"Are you all done yet?" She asked. "In case you haven't noticed, a lot of people called the other shit we've pulled 'dumb' as well. Yet here we are. Now are we going to break into this bank or not?"

A silence fell over the group as they begrudgingly finished their assigned jobs. Soon enough, it was done. The wrecking ball was ready to deploy, to be swung directly into the side of the bank and provide a clear opening for the crew to get inside. "Excellent," she sighed, unbuttoning her shirt.

"This is even dumber than your Jane Austen tramp-stamp," said Kinzie bluntly as her leader stripped of her clothing, paying little to no mind who was watching.

The Boss smirked and pulled herself on top of the wrecking ball by the chain, completely naked spare for her shoes, and gestured for Pierce to operate the machine. "Your insults are mere confusion to me, Kinzie. Music!" She ordered.

With a roll of her eyes, Kinzie hit the switch, and the music began to blast as the wrecking ball began to swing and gain momentum with the aim of its eventual target.

The Boss's dumbest ideas were always her best.


	7. Crack Shot

"I got this. I fucking got this." Bang. The Boss nailed her target, smirking at Johnny as he watched her. She hadn't been incredibly keen on the time travel thing, but she was glad she'd done so. She missed the shooting range.

"Pfft," he snorted, raising his weapon and shooting down another target without even so much as looking. "You're still rusty."

"Fuck you!"

"Don't get me wrong," he took his beer from the small table between them and took a swig. "Still a better shot than Shaundi. But not by much."

"You know I'm holding a firearm right now, right? I could shoot you."

"If you weren't a shit shot, yeah." He smirked, a shit-eating-grin spreading across his face. The Boss considered the idea of shooting him through the kneecap to teach him a lesson, but decided she didn't want another broken nose, rolling her eyes and turning back to the range.

"Hey, Boss," he asked, setting down his pistol and settling into watching her. "I been thinking…"

"There's a fucking surprise." She fired another round, not looking at him.

"Now that we're fucking and all, does that mean I get to know top secret shit?"

"Fuck are you talking about?" She asked. "You were my right hand man before I started putting your dick in my mouth. You already knew everything."

"No, I mean about you."

"Still not following."

"I know you weren't born in Stillwater." She froze as he spoke.

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"Read it on your file when I visited you in hospital. Before they took you into the prison one and they took me in."

"You visited me in hospital?" A little smile flourished on her face as he gave a shrug.

"Wanted to make sure you were actually in a coma and not just faking it. Might have punched you a few times."

Her smile vanished and she rolled her eyes again. "How fucking romantic." She gave a sigh and fired another shot. "You're right. I grew up in Freedom City."

"You gonna tell me why the fuck you'd come to Stillwater or am I gonna assume it was just your Daddy issues?"

The silence that followed this made Johnny uneasy. She didn't take her eyes off the range once, quickly firing away rapidly. Johnny always joked about her having Daddy issues, but he never thought about why she was actually the way she was.

"My Dad was a cop," she finally spoke, reloading. "Worked a high enough position that we lived comfortably. Mom didn't have to work. I was a happy kid." He watched her hesitantly. "Then one day he… I don't know. Something happened. He got shot or something I think, I was really little. Ended up demoted to desk duty after that. Wasn't long until he started drinking." She fired another round. "Started hitting Mom. Just a backhand every now and then at first. I don't remember the first time he actually kicked the shit out of her, but I remember the second time. She pulled herself up off the floor, packed her shit and left." Another round. "Didn't take me or my sister with her…" she laughed. "Sorry. I'll shut up. This is gay shit, you don't want to hear my life sto-"

"Keep going." He interrupted. Her eyes flickered to him for a second.

"So Mom was gone. Dad starts drinking more, hitting _us._" She paused to scratch underneath her goggles before letting out another few selective shots. "Rochelle, my big sister, ends up on crack or something, so she stops coming home. So that leaves me and Dad." She glanced at Johnny to see if he was still listening. He was.

"I was 14 or some shit when I started fighting back. Didn't really click for a while that he'd just hit me back harder if I did. So I start dating this guy. Huge guy. Told him about my Dad because I thought he might protect me. He says 'hey, leave. We'll get our own place.' But he needed money. So I start whoring. He'd find the guys who wanted to fuck a teenager and I'd do my thing. He'd spend half the money on whatever the fuck he wanted and I'd save the rest to pay for our shitty apartment. I just let people walk all fucking over me. And then, one day," she fired yet another round into the head of a poor cardboard victim, "I find out he's fucking some other girl. He doesn't make her fuck people for money. He doesn't take half of _her_ money. So I shot him. And then I went back to my Dad, who was this skinny, nasty-ass mess, and shot him, too. And then I got on the first bus out of town, which ended up taking me to Stillwater."

"How long were you in Stillwater before I met you?" He asked.

"A few years. I was, what, 16 when I left Freedom City? 19 when I started with The Saints?"

"I didn't fucking know you started at 16, Boss," he sighed. "That's fucked up."

"Whoring myself out?" She asked. "Fuck else was I gonna do? I had no money, no friends, no education, no _shit_ when I got off that bus. Had to survive, and I wasn't going to let people fucking walk over me anymore. Started whoring and got the first shithole crackden of an apartment I could. Forged an SAT score, went to Stillwater U with what I was making. Turned out being a hooker meant I had a significantly better work schedule than students who flipped burgers, so I kept doing it. Graduated. Kept street walking to pay for a new apartment and I was walking home one night when I ran into Troy and Julius. You know how the rest went."

"And you didn't even get mixed up with Tanya." A little smile appeared at the corners of his mouth. "How come you never talk about it?"

"I dunno." She finally set down her pistol, giving a shrug. "I figure we've all gone through shit. I'm hardly a special case. No use giving everyone a sob story, you know?"

"Never eats at you?"

"Fuck yeah it does. All the fuckin' time." She snorted as she reached for her beer. "I shot my own father, dude. But you gotta use it. I think about it, I get angry, I shoot shit. Like when you think about Aisha and you go crazy apeshit."

"That's the right way to do it, I guess… never knew you went through that but… I'm glad you turned out the way you did." He shot her a small smile as she eyed him carefully.

"Yeah. Me too," she sighed.

"You're still a shit shot, though."

"Go fuck yourself."


	8. An Exchange on Grief

"We ever gonna talk about Carlos?"

The Boss raised an eyebrow at Johnny as they sped down the highway, turning down the music so she could hear him better. "What?"

"Carlos." He spoke bluntly his elbow resting out the window. "That's why we're going back to Stillwater, right? To visit his grave?"

Her eyes didn't leave the road. "I told you, we've got business."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he scoffed. "I'm not an idiot, Boss, you're overdue a visit."

She laughed, giving a nervous smile. "Fuck are you talking about?"

"You used to visit it every coupla' months."

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"You think I never followed you?" He asked. "Actually, at first I thought you were fucking someone. Got a bit curious, couldn't figure out why it was such a big secret."

"Right." She turned silent suddenly, her lips pursing together.

"You know," he gave a sigh and shifted in his seat, "we talked a lot about 'Eesh. Never talked about Carlos."

"We didn't need to." She replied.

"Sure we did," his voice took the reassuring tone that she so often needed to hear, the same one he'd use to talk her down from something. "You _ever_ talked to anyone about it?"

"Nope." The Boss reached forward to turn up the radio again and end the conversation, but Johnny reached out and caught her wrist before she could.

"We're talking about it."

"No we're not."

"What the fuck kind of boyfriend am I if you won't even talk about your dead one with me?" He asked. "You spent fuckin' _months_ with me, talking to me, pulling my sorry ass off the couch, making sure I ate, and I think it's about time you let me return the favor."

She glanced at him, giving an exhale. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it," she finally relented. "It's… weird."

"Why the fuck is it weird?"

"It just fuckin' is." She was frowning now, her knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. "I fucking miss him, and I still go and visit his fucking grave because I wish he was here to see what the Saints have become, but here I am visiting his grave with my new fuckin' boyfriend." She glanced at Johnny again, whose arms had crossed as he listened. "And I don't know why, but that feels _fucked,_ Johnny. I'd fuckin' do anything to have him back, but I still went out and started fucking you? And now it's like, I feel the same way about you that I did about Carlos, and you aren't meant to feel that about two people. It almost feels like cheating." She gave a long exhale, gathering her composure again. "You ever feel that way?"

"About 'Eesh?" He asked.

"Yeah."

He took a good moment to think over this, his eyes glazing over, fixated on the road but not really watching. "Yeah. Yeah, I do. Think it helps that 'Eesh liked you, though. Don't get me wrong, if she was alive she'd cut my nuts off for looking at you the wrong way, but I think if she's watching us up there that she'd be happy we got each other."

"You think so?"

"Yeah." He gave a nod, watching her carefully. "And think about Carlos. Kid thought the fuckin' world of you. You think he woulda' wanted you to close up shop for the rest of your life?"

Finally, she cracked a small smile. "I think if he'd thought _you'd_ be after me one day, he would have shit his pants a little."

"Oh come on," he laughed. "Give the kid some credit. He broke you out of prison, didn't he?"

"That he fuckin' did. And then I broke _you_ out."

"And he fucked you and then you fucked me. Shit's full circle." Johnny laughed, smiling at the Boss as the car cruised onto the Stillwater freeway. "Seriously, Boss, he'd understand."

"And that feeling I get? The guilty one," she asked. "What about that?"

"Well, I don't fuckin' know if it's right," he mused, "but since when have we done the _right_ thing, anyway? We're selfish, greedy, self-serving psychos - and that's why we're so good together."


End file.
